Vengeance Be Mine
by Victoria Quynn
Summary: A dime novel is too true-to-life.


Vengeance Be Mine

"Let's see. Two pounds flour. Two pounds bacon. Two pounds oats. Pound of coffee. Half dozen apples. Six boxes of bullets. Tin of gun oil. One box rifle cartridges. That's everything on your list." The storekeeper looked up. "Guess you boys'll be on the trail a while."

Heyes nodded. "Yep. Have to see about a job in Grand Tier."

"That's a good long ride from here. This should hold you with some left over." The merchant figured on a sheet of paper. "That'll be eight dollars even."

Heyes pulled a wad of bills from his pocket. "That's highway robbery." He peeled eight dollars from the roll.

"Shipping costs are dear to get the supply wagons up the mountain. Not like we're near a railhead."

Kid Curry perused a book. He held it up. "Add this."

The storekeeper said, "We just got those in. It'll be another twenty-five cents."

"But it's a dime novel."

"It's a dime in the flatlands. Two bits up these parts."

Curry frowned.

"Still want it?"

"Yep. But at those prices, I won't be buyin' another one." Kid stuffed it into his jacket pocket.

Heyes smirked. He laid a coin on the counter. "A book, Thaddeus?"

"You're not the only one who can read, Joshua."

Heyes smiled. "Never said you couldn't. Not like you to do it, though."

Curry rolled his eyes.

As the merchant packed the supplies into two gunny sacks, Kid set aside the seven boxes of ammunition on the counter. "These should go in a separate bag."

"Sure. Here you go." The storekeeper handed Curry another sack. The Fastest Gun in the West placed the ammo in the bag, knotting it shut.

Heyes grabbed the two sacks off the counter. Nodding a goodbye to the merchant, he strode toward the door. Kid fell in step behind him.

~~oo00oo~~

The partners rode along, Heyes taking in the high country scenery and Curry with his nose in his book.

"You know, Kid, ain't every day we're up this high. Nice to see some green and bristlecone instead of brown everywhere."

"Hmm."

"I mean, the desert's nice but up here …"

"Hmm."

"I think I prefer it up here this time of year – it's a lot cooler."

"Hmm."

Heyes frowned. "Kid, there's some dust in the valley. Must be a posse."

"Hmm."

Heyes trailed his horse alongside Curry and snatched the book from the blond ex-outlaw.

"Heyes!"

"Ah, finally got your attention. Scary, but you're reminding me of me." Heyes smirked. Turning his attention to the book, he read from the cover, "The latest adventures of those two notorious outlaws, Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry – all new, true, and right off the press!" He laughed. "Okay, what have we done this time?"

Curry grabbed the book back from Heyes. "So far, robbed a train and a bank and shot up a stagecoach."

Heyes grinned. "We've been busy." He sobered. "But, when will they get it straight. We didn't rob stagecoaches and didn't shoot anybody."

Kid flipped through the volume. "Okay, here's where I was. It's gettin' strange."

"How so?"

Curry looked at Heyes. "A girl's vowin' to get revenge on us for killin' her father." He focused again on the book.

Heyes sighed. "See, there it is again. We didn't shoot anybody."

"Oh, wait, she's sayin' he committed suicide." Kid looked up. "He owned the bank we robbed."

"Oh. Which one?"

"Doesn't say, and doesn't matter. It's not real, remember?"

"Oh yeah. Forgot, but the cover says it's true." Heyes scanned the valley. "Was just kidding about the posse."

"Posse?!" Kid Curry reached for his Colt.

"Nah, was just funning ya when I couldn't get your attention."

"Oh." Kid re-holstered the sidearm, then found his place in the book.

"How 'bout reading to me?"

"It's a dime novel, Heyes. You're always makin' fun of me readin' 'em."

"But it's about us, even if they got it wrong."

Curry looked at his partner. Heyes was smiling. "Yeah, it's about us, but don't expect too nice a picture."

The dark-haired man said, "I want to hear about the girl getting revenge."

"Okay." Curry started to read out loud. "She swept the floor in the saloon …"

~~oo00oo~~

"Sweeping again? You can eat off this floor. Why don't'cha let me buy you a drink?"

The young woman continued her task, deftly and expertly moving the broom. Without breaking a stride, she replied, "Not again, Ham. You know better than that. I know the rules, and I won't be breaking them."

Ham strode from behind the bar to face the girl. "Delia, you're too good for this." He put his hand on the broom.

Delia pulled it back. "I'm paid to do a job, and I aim to do it right. You of all people, Hamilton Higgs, should know I need the money."

Higgs stared at her. "Money needn't be a worry. You know that, too."

The young woman stopped and faced him. "And you know I appreciate it, but I can't …"

"Yes, you can." His voice raised slightly. "Isn't it time you put that dang fool notion to bed and moved on?"

"To what?"

Ham sighed. "Delia, do I really need to say it again?"

"No. I suppose not." She recommenced her sweeping.

He circled to her front and forcefully grabbed the broom. Delia regarded him for a moment before turning. Walking behind the bar at the far end, she positioned herself in front of a small tub of water and started washing glasses.

Ham set the broom in a corner on his way to her. He grabbed her wrist. "These hands don't belong in dirty water, either."

Delia shook her wrist from his grasp, turned, and placed her hands on the bar. "Then what task am I allowed to do now?"

He sighed. "None."

Her voice dripped controlled anger. "So, I'm fired?"

"Yes. I mean, no." Ham looked at the floor for a moment before turning her to face him. "Delia, how many times do I have to ask? Marry me."

She wriggled free. "You know I can't."

"You've told me you love me."

She gulped. "Yes. I think so. Maybe … I don't know."

He regarded her. "Now you don't know? You seemed sure not so long ago."

She swallowed hard. Why was this so difficult? Ham loved her, wanted to marry her, employed her because it was the only way she would stay. But, it was keeping her from her real – only – ambition. After all, here she was: The daughter of a prominent banker. Or, a once prominent banker. No, a disgraced, once prominent banker. Wait, a deceased, disgraced, once prominent banker. Moreover, a deceased by his own hand, disgraced, once prominent banker. They ruined him. And her. And they would pay. By her solemn vow, they would pay …

"Delia?"

She blinked. "Huh?"

A gruff saloon owner and gambler by trade, Hamilton Higgs had a softer side no one but Delia ever saw, save perhaps for the occasional child when he was in the mood. He had that tone now. "There's that melancholy again." He pulled her to him. "Let me take you away from this. I'll sell this place and take you to San Francisco … New Orleans … Chicago … wherever you want. We'll start over, just you and me. Leave the past behind, both of us."

He beheld her. No doubt, she was pretty, the curls cascading to below her shoulders the same brown color as his hair, albeit his was straight. Even in the plain day dress she wore for work, she was magnificent, and deserved so much better than this. And he knew she found him attractive; she teased him when that one dimple took over his whole countenance. Some said they made an attractive couple – when she would allow them to be seen together; or, better yet, in those moments few and far between when she could drop that fool notion of hers, as he called it.

Delia sighed. "Ham, sometimes I'd like to, but …"

"But, nothing!" He withdrew the embrace and stepped back. "Get over this, this … thing! It takes a cold heart for revenge like that, Delia, no matter who or why. And I know you better than that."

She stared at him as he continued.

"We could have so much more. Don't let the past get in the way of happiness. It's not becoming!"

"Becoming? Do you think I like this? I saw them that night. I'm sorry, Ham. Maybe one day, but not right now." She walked past him, and grabbing a rag, immersed her hands back in the tub.

~~oo00oo~~

"Johnny, I'll buy you another drink. Just stay and hear me out." Delia put one hand on his forearm and signalled a bargirl with the other.

"Delia, I told ya once I wasn't interested. You'll have to find somebody else to do your dirty work."

"Keep your voice down," Delia hissed. Though the table in the corner where they sat was semi-private, voices carried in the quiet of a mid-afternoon. She lightened up. "Really, now, Johnny darling, I'll make it worth your while."

A barmaid dropped off two shots. Delia ignored hers while Johnny pushed his away.

"No one in his right mind would go up against Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry. And even if some poor fella tried, he'd be plum out of his gourd. Besides, how would anybody even begin to find 'em?"

Delia brightened. "I've got it all figured out. We'll ride up to Devil's Hole and find them. With enough money, their gang'll hand them over."

"That's your plan?"

Delia nodded.

"Right thin, isn't it?" Johnny laughed heartily.

The few patrons in the bar looked his way and smiled. They might like to know the joke passing between the couple in the corner but soon returned to their own pursuits.

The young woman in the plain day dress spoke in an even lower tone than before. "Stop it, Johnny. I'm saving my money. I'll have enough soon to hire someone."

Johnny Cray shook his head. His light brown curly hair framed a furrowed brow. He replied in an equally lowered voice. "You might find some down-and-out cowboy fool enough to take them on, but the Devil's Hole Gang ain't gonna give up those two. You're just askin' for trouble."

Delia looked him in the eye. "You keep your opinion to yourself, Johnny Cray. One would think you'd be begging for a chance to earn some easy money what with that placer operation of yours keeping you broker than a rundown mule. I wonder sometimes how you even eat."

"Eat? Ha! Who needs food when rot-gut's around?" He grabbed the shot and threw it back. "Ahhh, now that's better'n honey." He sat back, a satisfied grin overtaking him. "And that placer operation of mine, as you put it, is gonna be worth somethin' real soon. I can feel it."

Delia studied him. Still in a low tone, she said, "Whether you feel it or not, no vein in a tapped-out mine's gonna produce twenty thousand, plus!"

"Twenty thousand, plus?" Johnny narrowed one eye.

"Yes. Those two are worth ten thousand apiece, plus what I'll pay you."

"Enough of this." Johnny started to rise.

"Wait."

"What?"

Delia nodded to his chair. He reseated himself. "I know what they look like; probably one of the few people who do. They could ride right down the street in front of the sheriff's office, and he wouldn't know wanted men were in his path. But I would."

"So?"

She gasped. "So? That's all you can say? What if I told you, you could probably pass for Kid Curry?"

Johnny shrugged. "Where're you goin' with this, Delia?"

She winked. "Just saying. You get you and Ham together, and you'd be passable as Heyes and Curry."

"And you know that, how?"

"I told you. I was there the night they robbed my pa's bank. I fell asleep doing the books after hours when I heard a noise and they came in. The door was cracked just a bit and I saw them. It was dark, but they had a lantern. I'll never forget those faces."

"So, from a distance, in the dark, we might pass for outlaws? So what?" He sighed. "Do yourself a favor, Delia, and get over that fool notion. Wasn't it embarrassin' enough for ya when ya told the sheriff those two drifters were Heyes and Curry, and you were wrong? Never mind that other one you swore was Heyes. That poor drummer spent, what, two nights in the jail while the sheriff got proof of who he was? Why keep at it? It's been five years since your daddy's gone." He rose. "I'm right sorry for your troubles, Delia, but you're scatter-shootin' the moon at best. And stop blabbin' about this to just anyone ya come across. Put it behind ya. It's time to move on."

~~oo00oo~~

Curry paused his reading. "Told ya this was gettin' strange."

Heyes mused, "Lots of flaws in her planning."

Kid stretched. "Who cares, Heyes. It's just a story, remember?"

Heyes grinned. "Yeah, but even though we haven't gotten to that part, I bet they're saving the best planning for me."

Curry rolled his eyes. Yawning, he stretched more mightily and looked around. "This looks like good campin' ground." He dismounted. "Gotta take care of business." He disappeared behind a bush.

Heyes kept his saddle. "You know we're running late."

A voice came from beyond some foliage. "I know."

Heyes stretched. "Well?" He yawned.

Kid reappeared. "Like I said, this is good campin' ground, and you know it. You're just as tired as me. The Colonel will wait on us. He doesn't trust anybody else."

The dark-haired partner smirked. "We can at least ride through daylight so we can get through more of the story."

"We'll camp here. Once we get a fire started and eat, we can get back to the story."

~~oo00oo~~

Hamilton Higgs locked the batwing doors. Around him, bartenders and bespangled barmaids attended to various closing chores. Making his nightly circuit, Ham went behind the bar and scooped up money from the till, dumping it into a bag. Hitting the poker tables, he bagged coins and paper bills from the dealers. Finally, he settled down at the corner table where Delia sat, her dress now matching the bargirls. Together, they counted the day's take and filled out a tally sheet.

"There. Done." Delia yawned. "I'm going to bed. It's late, and the day starts mighty early tomorrow."

Ham stretched and yawned. "It's catching." He recovered and smiled. "Help me put this in the safe?"

"What's up your sleeve, Ham?"

"Nothing. Just want some help is all."

She nodded, too tired to beg off.

Carrying the tally sheet, Delia followed Ham into the office. He arranged the piles of money on the desk and stooped in front of the safe. She watched him deftly turn dials and open it, as she had so many times before. Yes, he cut quite a figure in his well-cut suit and string tie. And the way he wore that black hat made him look devilishly rakish, even dangerous. Like Heyes? Maybe.

That night in the bank so long ago, she recalled being struck paralyzed watching from the crack in the door, quiet as a church mouse, daring not to breathe. They worked quickly, obviously expert in their tasks – Heyes, oddly, with his ear to the safe's door. In all the times she had watched her father open a safe, or even Ham, she had never seen that done. Heyes took his time, methodical and focused, while Kid Curry alternately kept attuned to the windows and doors and stood over Heyes, seeming to watch his back even though no one was around, or so they thought. It was really all over in a few minutes. No fuss, no muss, no time wasted. In and out. No whooping, no skinning out of town like a pack of banshees. Barely any noise at all. Cool, calm, collected, coordinated.

And the bank was broke. After a posse returned empty-handed, the town blamed her father, the owner. In the ensuing run on the bank, he was able to pay only seven cents on the dollar. Left penniless, he rode out of town one day. Alarmed when he did not return, Delia sent the sheriff out after him. He returned over a horse, under a blanket. The lawman reported it was by own hand, and offered his condolences.

"Delia?"

"Huh?"

Ham faced her. He reached for her.

"I'm sorry, Ham. It's late." Tears welling, she ran out the back door.

~~oo00oo~~

The sounds of the woods competed with Kid Curry's voice for dominance. As the light from the campfire ebbed, he paused reading. Heyes looked up. Together, they listened. Cicadas and other creatures of the night reminded them they were not alone.

Finally, Heyes spoke. "There's no way we'd've missed her if she was there. Wish I knew what bank they're talking about."

"Heyes …"

"I know, it's just a story."

"Yep." Curry yawned. "Heyes?"

"I know, it's late."

"Yep. And the fire's just about out."

The campfire sputtered as Heyes threw twigs into it, then larger sticks. Finally, the flames flickered bright. "See, we can keep going." Heyes stifled a yawn.

Curry regarded his cousin through bleary eyes. "You're tired, too, and I can barely keep my eyes open. Let's call it a night."

"Nope. Give me the book. I'll read."

"It's a dime novel, Heyes, even if it cost two bits. And you don't like dime novels, remember?"

Heyes thought aloud. "Well, most of the time, maybe. But this one's about us."

Kid chuckled. "There are a lot about us." He handed Heyes the book, indicating where he left off. "You can read me to sleep."

"You won't be able to sleep once I start."

~~oo00oo~~

One Saturday morning, Johnny Cray came rushing into the saloon. Satisfied the place was empty enough, he spied Ham and nodded to the back table. They sat.

"Ham, I need a favor." He pulled a pouch out of his pocket and emptied some of the contents onto the tabletop. A few small nuggets and sparkly dust spilled out.

Higgs' eyes grew wide. He locked eyes with Johnny and spoke sotto voce. "Gold?"

Cray replied in whisper, his eyes dancing. "I think so. Just knew there was life in that old mine yet."

Ham asked, "What do you need?"

Johnny bagged the nuggets and carefully hand-swept the sparkly dust into the pouch. Moving in closer to Higgs, he chose his words carefully, "Well, it bein' Saturday and all, the bank and assay office are closed, and … well, it's not like we're real good friends or anythin' …"

Ham smiled. "Good enough friends. You want to store that in my safe until Monday?"

Cray grinned. "Yeah. Thanks for offerin'."

The men rose. Johnny followed Higgs into the office. As he had so many times, Ham fell to his knees and played with the dials. Johnny stood behind and over him, watching in anticipation. He had never been that close to a safe before.

Just then, broom in hand, Delia entered the office. Standing in the threshold, she stared, mesmerized. Blinking, she turned, then looked back. Time stood still. Paralyzed, she watched as the man with light brown curly hair stood over the dark-haired man opening the safe. Memories flashed in front of her. She blinked, and blinked, and blinked some more. Still the flashing continued. Her hands went to her head, then dropped to her mouth. Was she really seeing what she was seeing?

Finally able to move, in a split second she reached for a rifle in a near corner. Hearing something, the men turned around. She fired.

~~oo00oo~~

Heyes and Curry rode in silence the next morning. Having read all night and finished the story, they had slept late and were still tired. Words did not come easy.

"Cat got your tongue, Heyes?"

"No."

"Then why so quiet?"

"No reason."

Curry inquired, "So you liked the story?"

"Not really."

Kid reined his horse to a stop.

Heyes grumpily halted his mount as well. "What're you stopping for? We're already late for Grand Tier."

"I know," replied the blond man.

"So …?"

"So what's really buggin' you, Heyes? You couldn't wait to finish the story and seemed to like it. Was it that it was a dime novel and not some high-falutin story by Mark Twain?"

Heyes shook his head.

"Then what? Somethin's botherin' ya."

Heyes sighed. "The girl had a really bad plan, but they didn't let me have a better one."

~~oo00oo~~

Days later, the partners rode into Grand Tier. Exhausted, saddle sore, almost out of supplies – or rather, spooked by and questioning a dime novel, silly no more – they stopped for a drink at the first watering hole they came to.

Entering, they noticed the room seemed somber for a saloon in a decent-sized town. A wreath bedecked a door to the rear of the room. No games of chance beckoned. The partners' eyes locked, and two pairs of shoulders shrugged. They approached the bar.

Toweling off glasses, the bartender asked, "Can I get you gents anything?"

Heyes responded, "Two beers."

The barman served up two mugs. "There ya go. Four bits."

Heyes' eyes grew wide. "That's highway robbery."

"Freight's dear up these hills. There's no railroad nearby, so everything costs extra."

The partners locked eyes again, unsettled. What goes around, comes around: They had heard that at the start of this journey.

~~oo00oo~~

In the saddle again, the partners walked their horses in front of the sheriff's office. The name on the sign was not familiar to them. They breathed a sigh of relief.

As they turned the corner to approach the hotel, another side of the sheriff's office came into view. From a barred window, eyes followed them, staring ever wider. A female voice yelled, "It's Heyes and Curry! Sheriff, it's Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry!"


End file.
